A mental health check-in

Is it me? Is the moon somewhere wonky? Is my body in the luteal phase? Or am I about to get my period?

Have I neglected my body? My mind? Did I eat too much sugar? Did I drink too much caffeine?

Why am I so goddamn sad all the time?

Why are there so many ways to feel blue?

And, more importantly, will I feel this way forever?

I know, logically, that it won’t. I’ve told myself this countless times. Just the other day on a walk, the temperature was above zero, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and there was something about the air that felt more awake—more like spring. I’ve lived 27 winters and yet here I was, in awe of how much better I felt. It’s like I didn’t even realize there was a dark cloud over me until it was gone. I’ve gotten better each year at preparing for SAD, but it’s disorienting living in that darkness for so long.

Despite the fact that I talk about mental health all the time through this platform, I’ve discovered through therapy that I actually do a shit job at taking care of my own mental health. On top of that, I’m even worse at self care. Turns out, knowing about the different forms of self-care and being aware of what one should do when their mental health is poor, does not equate to knowing what I need in those moments.

I guess I thought I knew what self-care looked like for me. I thought it looked like escapism: ignoring the world through a good book. I thought it looked like disconnecting: turning off my notifications and ignoring messages and to-dos. I thought it looked like being alone: allowing myself space to just be without any expectations.

But after my last “self-care” day, I ended the day feeling worse than when I started.

Of course, I beat myself up for having a day where I did “nothing.” I want to be clear, for myself and for you, reader, that having a day of rest is not doing “nothing”. Having a day where you take time for yourself and do what you need to do to fill your cup is nothing to feel guilty about. But I think it’s time to admit to myself that my beloved forms of self-care aren’t as beneficial as I once thought.

So how does one figure out what works for them? How do we learn what actually makes us feel better? These questions weren’t as easy to answer for myself as I thought. So I started writing stuff down. In what I call my “reminder notebook”, I started noting when I felt good. I noted what activity I was doing, who I was with, and even what was going on around me. My notes started to look like this:

• Visiting with family.

• Listening to music during the work day.

• Phone calls with friends.

• Exercise—like an actual work out and not just a hectic walk with my dogs.

• Therapy sessions.

• Spending an hour to myself before work.

I’m learning that self-care isn’t always easy. Who would have thought, right? When I’m down, I seldomly want to pick myself up to work out or get up early. Or even talk to a friend or be around anyone, frankly. I used to think that self-care should come naturally, or be relatively low effort, like taking a bubble bath or getting my hair done. Those are forms of self care, but they aren’t the ones that are going to save me.

I’m going to take a wild guess and assume that you haven’t checked in with yourself today (if you have, you are clearly the superior being, congratulations.) Let’s hunker down and do a check-in together. Grab your notebook, your favourite pen, maybe a tea, and let’s walk through a mental health check-in together.

How are you feeling?

A painfully obvious first question, but how often do you pause to genuinely answer this question?

A bit like goldilocks with her warm porridge and perfectly adequate bed, I guess. Content, could be another word. I don’t feel too heavy, like I have too many things to do and not enough motivation, but I also don’t feel as light as I could. When I think of feeling light, I think of happiness and warmth. And after a day of work, I’m not left feeling that way. But I’ll take perfectly okay as a win for today.

What’s been worrying you lately?

What’s been coming up again and again, weighing on you? It could be a plethora of things, from work to finance, or a relationship or friendship. Sometimes it takes a hot second before we can identify the weight on our chest—take a moment to sit with this.

Time passing. I feel like it’s moving too quickly, and if I don’t keep up the pace, I’ll never get to where I ultimately want to be. I feel like I should be grateful for my youth, but it comes with so much pressure. Time is passing and it feels painfully cruel.

Have I provided my body with its basic needs?

Treat yourself like a house plant. Have you gotten enough sun and water?

Today, yes. I feel like I neglected myself yesterday and have some making up to do. I still need to get out for a walk though, but that’s coming shortly.

What am I doing to bring myself joy?

What are you doing to make your life worth living?

Writing. Spending time with my husband. Making future plans for really cool things.

Who do I have in my corner?

It’s painfully easy to feel alone. Chances are though, you’re anything but.

So many people, it’s crazy that that I forget sometimes.